Mary

Last week I said goodbye to a beautiful writer friend of mine, Mary.  Mary fought a very tough battle with cancer, and I'd like to think that even though she didn't beat the cancer, she attacked the negativity that cancer brings, and she opened up a can of whoop ass on that negativity.  She smiled through the pain until the very end, even though it was only for Robert's bad jokes : ).

I met Mary at one of the writing workshops I facilitate through the library I work for.  She was writing a memoir composed of letters to the children she taught while teaching special education in the hopes that she could support educators working with autism spectrum disorders.

It was a beautiful memoir, both heartbreaking and inspirational, and Mary was passing it around to her beta readers at the time of her passing.  One of her sons has taken the baton and plans on publishing it.

Last year I was selected for an artist and poet pairing for a showing at a Missouri art gallery.  The event is called Interpretations.  Artists and poets submit their work and if accepted, are matched with a piece to interpret.  So for writers, their accepted writing is given to an artist for the artist to interpret.  Meanwhile, the writer is given the artist's accepted artwork to interpret.  I had such a wonderful time I decided to tell all my writer friends about it this time around.  I was accepted again this year, as well as Mary and another workshop attendee who helped Mary submit because she was already struggling at the time of submission.  

Mary never managed to fully write her second poem, but while she was in the hospital we talked about it and made notes.  

With her family's blessing I put Mary's words into poem form without adding any words or changing her voice.  Today, before submitting my poem, I sent Mary's off first, and it was a lot harder than I thought it would be to click send.

When our writings are matched with the artwork and are ready to be viewed at the gallery I will not be hanging out with Mary on opening night, but I still expect her to make an appearance in everyone who reads her pieces.

I am thankful that Mary's son is going to continue with her book and I am thankful that another workshop attendee helped Mary submit to Interpretations.  I am thankful Mary had room for me in her life, which was bursting with family and art and grandkids and writing and friends.  I am thankful for her tenacity and wisdom, kindness and humor.  I am thankful that she is no longer in pain and that her spirit and words are living on in so many people. 

too cute to eat

Look at this adorable Easter basket that a writer from my memoir workshop gave me to share with my coworkers:

Workshop Happiness

One of the writers who attends both of my workshops just gave me a thank-you note and the chapbook of a local poet : ): 

And another writer who attends both of my workshops sent this to the Executive Director of the Foundation:

 "I want you to know that The... Branch has a hidden treasure behind the desk and in the stacks!   Hannah Jane Chambers chairs both The Memoir Writers and The Poetry Group once a month and is a creative, enthusiastic and very knowable facilitator.   She loves the library and her work there but I am sure she spends hours of her own time planning and preparing for her 2 workshops.  I never miss either gathering and the little meeting room is usually filled with all ages and of all levels of talent but all eager to learn more from Hannah Jane.  I can always feel the excitement in the room as the early arrivals compare notes and ideas on promps sent home the month before and speculate on  what Hannah Jane will surprise and encourage us with this evening. 

     Last evening’s Poetry Group was especially rewarding;  a well planned study of haikus and time to  write and share our efforts.  Hannah Jane, “off the clock” will be creating our efforts into a wall of flower poetry to celebrate Poetry Month.  I couldn’t sleep for hours as haikus celebrating spring danced in my head.  She was so well prepared and excited herself that the energy in the room was contagious.  She even brought at least 50 colored pens and special papers to encourage creativity.  As I said, Hannah Jane is a treasure.

     Hannah Jane is a wonderful poet and dedicated worker and I’m sure she can look forward to a satisfying future.  I’m 85  just hope no larger library or organization lures her away until I can no longer navigate to The... Library.  Come visit sometime and see for yourself what Hannah Jane can do!"

And the response from the Executive Director:

"This is wonderful and I am so happy to hear that your experience with the Poetry Group has been so positive.  Hannah Jane Chambers is indeed a treasure and we are fortunate to have her on staff!

As the Executive Director of the Foundation, I am especially pleased to hear this because we actively support writers activities and programs at the Library and we love to hear the great work going on...  Your words are life giving and I will happily share with our leadership this great feedback about Hannah!"

the happiest place in the library

April is a very special month for me because it is National Poetry Month and I always make a fun display for the library.  This year National Poetry Month began in March when I asked the people in the poetry workshop I facilitate to help me with a special part of the display.  I thought National Poetry Month would be the perfect time to celebrate one of my favorite forms, the Haiku.  First, I decided our topic would be spring.  I then wrote the five senses out twice on pieces of paper in addition to two special pieces of paper - the opener that closed winter and the closing that opened to summer.  Each piece of paper had a special # attached to it for how it would fit into a Renga, which is a poem composed of many haikus.  Each person in the workshop drew out pieces of paper from the bowl and wrote a haiku about experiencing spring through the sense that was chosen.  For example, the sense of smell was a poem about a dog sniffing the butts of other dogs during a spring romp - no joke - enlarge it and you will see!  After the haikus were written everyone read their poems according to the number attached to the piece of paper they drew.  Two lucky poets wrote the opening and closing for the collaborative poem and wrapped up the Renga beautifully.  

Then each person carefully wrote their poem on a pretty piece of paper of their choice.  I took those papers home and cut them into flowers for a collage piece I created for National Poetry Month. It was such a marvelous experience.  

Doing a collage project often requires the entire floor of my craft room and more time spent vacuuming than creating : ).  I had a lot of fun matching the poets and their poems to the accent colors of the flowers.  

Don't worry, in addition to the collage, my display is bursting with poetry books handpicked by my coworkers and me.  

I think it's currently the happiest place in the library.  

I know I can do so much better

I've been doing a lot of thinking about the goals I want to accomplish in this next year.  In addition to continuing to write in some way every day and spending more time cuddling the three beasts that I share a home with, I have a few more goals:

1.  Learn to play the xylophone.  Yes!  I have been wanting to take a stab at it for years.  Hands down,  it's my favorite instrument and I'd love to get my hands on those mallet things.  My heart will forevermore belong to the brass family, but it's time I take a chance and reach out to the instrument of my dreams.  I don't know if you know this, but I used to play in a bell choir at a Lutheran church while growing up, and I loved it.  I particularly loved plunking them on the soft foam when that sound was needed.  My childhood best friend was a Lutheran so I went to church with her family nearly every week (unless I was fighting with the best friend).

While the Lutherans at this church made me sit in a hallway whenever they were doing anything particularly religious or cultish, I still managed to participate in two important events: the whole cracker/wine combo (which the best friend and I partook in while no one was looking) and bell-ringing.  I even went to a conference in Illinois with the Lutherans and got a t-shirt with Lincoln playing bells on the front.  

So what do bells and the xylophone have to do with each other?  Mostly nothing, but wasn't that a great story?  I do think that I will find the same happiness in the xylophone that I found in bells.  And maybe I can join a band if I'm good?  Any takers?

2.  More silliness.  I haven't been silly enough.  I know I can do so much better.

3.  More hugs for everyone.  Less frowns.  I can probably stand to be less hesitant when tapping into that fountain of empathy that lies just below skepticism and self-conservation.

4.  I need to tackle some of the more outlandish embroidery ideas I have.  Possibly do a cinquain or two in a hoop.

5.  Keep using my car as a treat.  Ditto to cake, book shopping and beer.  And keep using the bike and tennis racket as extensions of my body, which is a very superhero thing to do.

6.  Reach out.

7.  Continue being an integral part of writers connecting to other writers.  Be present and helpful to those in my workshops.  Find answers and resources and remain positive.

8.  Be more like Scott.  The last awesome thing I saw him do?  Offer to buy a drink for one of those bell-ringers that haunt stores around the holidays.  I definitely have room for improvement in this area.

9.  Dance more.  Learn at least 5 dances from this list.

10.  Grow.

11.  Listen.  Keep an ear out for amazing ideas, inspiration and life-changing moments.  For example, after reading The Wheeling Year by Ted Kooser, one of my goals this year is to always put my shoes on standing up because he mentions that it is something he does to maintain balance.  Another example that I just stumbled across is the acronym W.A.I.T., which stands for Why Am I Talking? and borrowed from an audiobook that I'm currently listening to, Miracles Now by Gabrielle Bernstein.  I definitely have trouble with saying way too much and have been using the W.A.I.T approach rather successfully so far. 

What are your goals?

like a damn lightbulb

It has been a busy couple of weeks.

I discovered I have a tear in my left knee (totally annoyingly vague, yes I know!), which is really only my second sports injury in 14 years of playing sports, which is just shy of amazing because I have always put 100% of myself into all endeavors, not just sports but everything.  I am hopeful that I will have more answers soon and I can tell you now that I am on the path to recovery because I don't have any time for that doubt malarkey.  I am going to take advantage of the healing time and go to a few poetry readings and cram in extra writing.

I also met Wyatt Townley, the Kansas Poet Laureate.  She did a reading/discussion for the poetry workshop that I facilitate at the library I work for.  Did I tell you that I facilitate a poetry workshop?  I do! And it has been a success!  Wyatt Townley's visit was my way of celebrating a year of successful workshopping.  The poets in my workshop have grown into a cohesive, hard-working and inspirational group.  Wyatt Townley was wise and gentle with poems that blazed quietly.  It was a motivational evening.

My mom flew in a couple days later, and we spent several days packing up my grandmother's house at the lake.  Even though it wasn't the house I lived in as a child, I spent most of my time there and it became a permanent part of who I am. Ask me to share my poems and essays that I have written about it the next time you see me.  And after sorting through memories with my mom, I have so much more to say.

In-between all the packing and sorting we ate lots of good food, visited a few bookstores, and even went to a beer tasting at a library (Not mine of course.  We are cool, yes, but not that cool).

Tea from Blue Koi



Salad from Beer Kitchen (which is my new favorite place and I haven't even tried the beer)



My brother, Rusty aka James, flew in to help with the packing and we had an excellent conversation with my dad.  It was one of those conversations that lit me up from the inside out and I have been walking around like a damn lightbulb, giggling at remembered pieces of the conversation.